


Satan's Eyes

by vogue91



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kissing, POV First Person, Rough Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: I’ve often wondered what happens after death. If there actually is a God, if there is a Devil.Until I’ve met Satan in the flesh.Satan’s got an ice stare, and her name is Buffy Summers.





	Satan's Eyes

I’ve often wondered what happens after death. If there actually is a God, if there is a Devil.

Until I’ve met Satan in the flesh.

Satan’s got an ice stare, and her name is Buffy Summers.

That little girl that in the blink of an eye has become a woman.

Her shoulders are too narrow to bear the weight of her duties; and yet, when I first met her, she was different. She was more cheerful, more alive, and now just dead almost like me.

And it’s for this atypical zombie that I, William Spike, fell in love with. Of those cold eyes, of that nocturnal nature. She’s just like me, no matter how much she pretends to be human.

There’s nothing human about her refusal for existence. Just like is not human her attraction for danger.

She comes at night, like a ghost, she recruits me to down some vampire or demon.

She seduces me. She invites me toward her. And as soon as I get closer, she pushes me away.

As if she dared me to take her, implying that she’s never going to be mine.

I’ve always lived lifeless among the cold walls of my crypt; I wasn’t happy, but at least I wasn’t anxious.

Now she’s given warmth to this place. A warmth that doesn’t belong to her, but spawning from her memory.  The crystal memory of every moment she’s graced me with her presence.

I see the lights of the sun falling seeping in from the door, and I moan. I know that she’s gonna appear any moment now, as she’s always done. I believe she links me with darkness, that black realm that it’s my only home.

As foreseen, after a few moments I hear the door opening. She doesn’t even knock anymore, for she knows all I own is hers.

“Hello, Buffy.” I say, harsh. She doesn’t even reply. She looks around, her face disgusted.

“Today your crypt is gloomier than usual.” she points out, and I shake my head.

“It fits my mood.” I say. She looks amused.

“Let’s hear it, what happened?” she asks.

“Nothing concerning you.” I growl.

She knows what’s happened. She knows what happens everytime she comes through my door. Just like I’d like to go through hers. And she smiles, and says nothing more. She stares at me, until I’m the one breaking the silence.

“So, who are we gonna take out tonight?” I ask, irritated.

“We’re killing a few very common vampires, if it’s alright with you. I’m alone on patrol tonight, and I wouldn’t want to get bored.” she says.

“Of course. I almost forgot the only reason I exist is to amuse you.” I say, bitter.

“I wish you did! You just mess with my monotony a little bit.”

“Then why do you keep coming?” I provoke her. She keeps quiet longer than my mind can bear. I get closer, slowly, and I put my hands on her shoulders. “Buffy...” I murmur.

But she recovers quickly, and pulls away.

“Are we going or not?” she asks, as if nothing had happened. I snort.

“We’re going, whenever and wherever you want. But sooner or later you’ll have to stop, honey.” I tell her, devilishly.

“Don’t call me honey.” she scolds me as usual, then takes the door.

And, of course, I follow.

 

~

 

Spike is always the same. The one who knows no boundaries, no rules, no feelings. Deprived of the joy of blood, he throws himself mercilessly at flesh.

I never know how to react, what gestures may cause a reaction in him.

I just know is better to keep quiet, motionless. Letting him do everything, convincing himself to play in a comedy of which he was the only author.

But is he, really?

Then why do I feel him closer lately? More than my friends, more than my sister, more than all those people who profess their love for me?

I know why. I was in Heaven. I was wrapped in pureness. And I’ve been torn away from that celestial reign, and been thrown into the very bowels of Hell. And, right now, he is my Hell.

I can’t hate them, just like I can’t love them. I feel empty, like never before. And I look for moments to fill this emptiness, and I want them from him.

It’s cold in the cemetery, I don’t like it. I want him to tear me away from this cold, and I’d almost laugh of this desire of mine, to the thought that Spike has been frozen for so long now, that he can’t really give me what I’m looking for.

And yet I stay here, waiting for something that can’t really happen, no matter how long I hope for it.

We walk among the tombstones, without saying a word. I wait for him to be the first one to talk, to tell me something that would force me to run. But he waits.

He’s learnt the rules of my game, and he’s decided he doesn’t want to follow them anymore.

“Of few words, uh?” I say, trying to get a reaction out of him. But he just shrugs.

“I’ve got nothing to say, Buffy. You’re the one in charge, you know that.”

How I wish it was true. Being in charge of my own existence, of everything surrounding me.

In charge of his heart, whose last beat has been lost in centuries.

He’s so disdainful, somehow naïve. He can’t see what a damnation is having a beating heart.

And I can’t understand I don’t want him to read inside of me, with that disarming simplicity.

He wasn’t like this before, we both know that; what I don’t understand is why. I’ve been brought back to this damn world by my friends, I should be bound to them, not belonging to him, and to all the darkness surrounding me.

I should appreciate more life, warmth.

But flames can’t reach me, and my heart by now is covered from layer of ice, that no one will be able to melt.

I’m condemned to this cold Hell, cold like my eyes.

“You’re right, I’m in charge. And yet, it doesn’t feel like you’ve ever been willing to listen.” I accuse him, and at least I make him smile.

“True. But I don’t just because the things you say most of the times are absurd.”

“For example?” I ask, knowing I’m building my own trap.

“For example when you deny what you are. When you say that we’re nothing together. When you say you’re not in the slightest attracted to me.” he points out. I chuckle, trying to sound sarcastic.

“And you call these absurdities? I think the more proper word is truths, Spike.” he doesn’t have time to reply, when we see three vampires coming out from the woods surrounding the graves, a chilling smile on their face. I smile as well, glad to have a distraction. Demons scare me far less than Spike’s words.

“Finally, a bit of action. I was starting to believe I had killed you all.” I say to them, taking out the stake and getting closer, followed by Spike.

It’s just vamps, but after a few minutes I have to admit they know their way around a fight. They seem almost able to foresee my movements, and they manage to hit me.

I knock one of them up, and in the very same moment I drive the stake through his chest I head a deaf sound, a sudden pain to the back of my end, and then nothing more.

 

~

 

WdyYW1OZlJHblZwWWtIVXB0UDQ0ZHBhYg on the ground, one of the vampires hovering over her, I feel that if I had a little blood left in my veins it would’ve been frozen. I run, careless of the monster still following me, and I jump him, throwing him on the ground and snapping his neck. In a few minutes I get rid even of the last of them and I lean on her, who gives no signs of recovering.

“Buffy? Buffy, wake up, don’t be an idiot.” I say, harsh, before realizing how dumb is getting worked up with someone who’s passed out. I touch her head, then I look at my hand, covered in red. Blood. I growl.

I pick her up and go bac to the crypt as soon as possible. I lay her down on a blanket on the ground; I don’t know what to do, it’s not like I’ve ever needed first aid training.

In the end I decide to wash the wound, then I tear a piece of my shirt and I use it to stop up the blood.

I sit next to her and I look at her, waiting for her to gain back consciousness.

She’s so... peaceful when she’s unconscious. The muscles on her face are relaxed, her lips almost seem to twitch in a smile. I wonder what she’s thinking about, what she’s dreaming. If at times, even by mistake, there’s me inside that mind. I shake my head.

If I’m not in her thoughts, it’d be better for her to get out of mine.

I’m starting to hope she wakes up soon. That she starts being bitter with me once more, destroying all of my theories. At least I’d have a good reason to hate her.

Even though I know I won’t.

I light up a cigarette and I open the crypt’s door. There’s no sound at all, with the exception of a few solitary owls. I’m still smoking when I hear Buffy moving. I turn, and I see her sitting down. She looks around, confused, before bringing a hand to her head and grimacing.

“Ouch!” she complains. “What happened?” she asks. I grin seeing her expression, and she gets irritated. “Cut it, Spike. Do you mind explaining why I’m in your crypt and there’s blood running out of my head?” I snort.

“There’s blood running out of your head because you’ve taken off the bandage I had put on it. And you’re in my crypt because tonight a vampire hit you and you’ve passed out. You can thank me later.” I explain. She turns up her nose.

“Thank you... for having put your shirt on my head?” she asks, doubtful. I glare at her.

“For that... for having saved your life, your choice.” she shakes her head.

“Ok, if it’s so important for you, then thank you.” she says, as if she’s giving me the greatest gift. It’s unbelievable how a girl so insignificant manages to irritate me _this_ much. I move away from the door and point at it.

“Now that you’ve given me your heartfelt gratitude, you can leave.” I tell her, with me most hateful voice I can manage. She tries to stand up, but as soon as she does I see her sway. Instinctively I dash to her, keeping her up by a hip. She moves away abruptly, leaning against the wall.

“I must have lost more blood than I thought.” she murmured, her eyes closed.

I grit my teeth, swearing at himself.

I’d like to be indifferent. I’d like to enjoy her pain, her confusion. And yet the biggest part of me can’t help but worrying about her, her condition, both physical and mental. I turn, so that I can deprive myself at least of the sight of her face.

 

~

 

I feel weak. It’s something I’ve always hated; I’m not weak, I’m the Slayer. And I don’t want anyone to look at me as if I am some fragile thing. Even less if that someone is Spike.

I try to walk, but my head is spinning too much. I give up and sit down on the floor. Spike sits next to me, without saying a word. He looks at me and nothing else.

I’m scared of those eyes, just like he’s scared of mine.

They gaze at the emptiness born inside of me. It’s an emptiness that’s spreading quickly, and I’m not sure anymore I’m strong enough to fight it. I just want to disappear, away from a world that won’t be bothered with my absence. I miss what’s being able to let me empty my mind up to so little time ago; it’s been taken away from me, violently, and I know it’s not coming back, because people go on and I stay back, waiting for them. And they all talk, talk, and I talk to them, but no one can see what I truly want. What I had was unknown, and perhaps I can’t even understand it completely. I just know that now there’s nothing left to wait for during the afternoons, when that emptiness becomes more destructive than ever. I know that no one’s going to come and save him.

And I know that children are not men, they’ll never be, and Spike is nothing but a child. He pretends he understands, he pretends he can be a human being as well, but he fails to see how inhuman is the world we live in.

“How are you feeling?” he asks after a while, seeing that I keep quiet.

I shake my head.

“Like someone whose head’s split open.” I say, bitter. He snorts.

“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” I frown.

“I can walk with my own legs.” I reply, and he laughs.

“Yeah, sure. We’ve seen that.” he mocks me. I get away, slowly, trying to get to the door.

“Is this another one of your crazy schemes to show me that I’d be lost without you?” I say, ironical, and Spike rolls his eyes.

“Buffy, stop taking everything so personally. I’m not trying to do you, just to help you.” I stare at him, doubtful, then I sit back again.

“I’ll stay until I’ll be able to walk in a straight line.” I mutter. He laughs, and comes sitting next to me. He turns, reaching out an arm and taking a bottle of rum.

“Want some?” he asks. I glare at him.

“I just told you my goal is to walk in a straight line and you offer me alcohol? It’s not very helpful.” he shrugs, opens the bottle and takes a sip.

“I find a little rum always helps. Especially when you’re with me.” his voice is low, as if he was talking to himself. I close my eyes.

“What do you mean?” I ask, irritated.

“Come on, Buffy. You know it. You can’t still be convinced I’m indifferent to you.” I sigh.

It’s an argument I have no intention to have.

 

~

 

I wouldn’t want to talk about it. It doesn’t do me any good. And yet I can’t deny it’s almost... exciting, seeing her struggling. She doesn’t know what to say, she doesn’t know whether I’m sincere or not. She just knows that what I’m suggesting is alluring.

The girl likes the dark, that’s for sure.

“What are you talking about?” her voice is so nonchalant that it doesn’t leave me any doubt. She knows exactly what I mean.

“Buffy... look at me. I’m a man too, in case you still haven’t noticed.” I explain, cryptic. She tilts her head.

“You’re not a man. You’re more or less a beast, Spike.” she says, hateful; I sigh.

“I’d love for you to actually think that. I would make my peace with it, I’d stop thinking about you. But Buffy, you’re the only thing giving sense to my day. I spend hours waiting for the night to come, because I know that you’ll come at night, with that cold, sarcastic look, with your treating me like an animal... but at least you’re there. And I know that, in the end, you’re not living. You’re playing a part.” she keeps quiet for a few seconds, then answers.

“I play a part, Spike? And for who? Who would even care? They just need me to be alive, to kill vampires, to be there for them to rely on me. I don’t have an audience, just a lot of directors.” I grin, then shake my head.

“You’re wrong. You know they watch you. You know they have expectations. And what can you possibly do for them? For sure not falling in love with a dead man, with a damned soul, and that’s why you keep pretending. But there’s no need to. I see what’s enclosed in your heart, better than you can.”

“I know.” she murmurs. She gets closer, slowly. She reaches out a hand to me. I’m about to move, but she forbids me to. So I keep motionless, waiting for her lead. As usual.

She brings a hand on my cheek. I suppose she feels it cold, cause she shivers. She come closer still, and...

She kisses me.

I had stopped believing something like this would’ve ever happened. And I can’t control my instincts.

She’s right, I’m a beast, a hunter. And she’s my prey.

I push her against the wall, and I start kissing her harder. She doesn’t fight it, she let herself being kissed, touched, bitten. And she does the same.

It’s a spiral of desire and violence that I had almost forgotten.

She’s so different from Drusilla. Or, perhaps, I’m the one who’s different, now that I can see pieces of my soul inside of her.

It doesn’t take me long to get rid of her clothes, and still less it takes her to get rid of mine.

She wants it, I feel it in the rush of her hands, but she will never want it like I’d want her to.

I’ll try to settle somehow, and I’ll have my revenge on her like this, for there is no other way she’d allow me to.

I feel her hands on me, they don’t linger in any particular spot, until they find their goal. She starts stroking me, fast, confirming that she’s not willing to play, that she wants to get to it, to let herself go to the point of forgetting even for a split second who she is.

I let her touch me for a few more seconds, while I do the same to her; I want to torture her, but more than that I want to keep this feeling as long as I can.

In the end I can’t take it anymore, I take her from her legs and I push her harder against the wall. I get inside of her with a brutal thrusts, and she screams. I know that’s what she wants from me right now. She needs the animal for this, and I’ll give it to her.

I feel almost suffocating in that heat, and I know already it won’t last enough for me to enjoy it as I’d want.

I concentrate on her and her expressions, I hear her moaning, without saying my name once.

I let go when she reaches the orgasm, and I push her once more against the wall, sure that she’s got her back wounded, and I only allow myself that; I resist the instinct of biting her, because that damn thing I’ve got in my head wouldn’t catch the nuance and understand that, for once, I wouldn’t want to hurt her.

When I reach my limit I come inside of her, and I moan her name, and I like how it sounds with my broken voice, but I know she won’t notice anyway.

I let her go and I lie next to her, on the floor, like animals. I surround her shoulders with my arm and I light up a cigarette.

“See? It wasn’t so hard.” I tell her, with a victorious grin on my face. She moves away from my grip.

“Spike... you are looking for something the is extinct in me. This is what I can give you. Sex, if you want it, take it.” she sighs, and moves her eyes away. “But if it’s love you’re seeking, if you want something going beyond excitement and the temporary rush... I’ve forgotten what it means.” she stands up and gets dressed, then she moves to the door. Before getting out, she looks at me. And it’s those eyes, those that leave indelible scars on my body, more than she did with her nails and teeth.

“You leaving?” I ask, whispering. She nods.

“I’ve got nothing else to do here.” she says getting out, leaving me to watch her back while she goes.

 

~

 

Poor Spike, you’re looking for a human being to fill your lacking of humanity.

But I, like you, I’m human just in the shape. Inside of the there’s just cold, a long, eternal night. I’d follow the stars to find all that I’ve lost, if only I could see them.

But there’s no stars. Just a crescent moon, hurting my eyes for how bright it is. Those eyes that you can’t stop looking at, Spike.

I go back home, alone. I’ve got barely the perception of my steps in the ground.

Everything’s distant, there’s nothing around me.

I’ve preserved your smell on my skin, and now I need to wash it away. For this view of life you’ve showed me hurts too much.

There can’t be life in me. Not anymore.

 

~

 

You’re really gone, and you’ve taken away the blaze of a flame we’ve consumed together.

I’ve got nothing left but the bare ground, giving me that comfort that you’re torn away from me.

Tell me how this makes sense. If offering me your body, denying to possess emotions, makes you happy of who you are.

You don’t know how to dig deep enough, Buffy. You can’t look at yourself in the mirror and see what I can.

Perhaps all you see now is a shadow, an evanescent reflection of what you were before.

A shadow, whose outlines belong to a Buffy that would’ve never given in to my flattery.

You should try and cry, if you still can.

It would do you good to give a new light to those eyes, Buffy.


End file.
